Sunday, June 3, 2007

You lingered over the coffee pot, now you can Eclipse it. Well. You could if you were allowed to buy Eclipse gum.

You know what we did this weekend? We didn't buy anything, that's what we did. Actually, I spent 27 dollars and something to provide food for a barbecue we had with some friends. But that is all, and that is allowed. I had an "I want to buy Eclipse gum" temptation in the checkout line, but I resisted.

For our cookout, we had to put the grill on the side of the house, in the driveway, so as not to disturb Angelina Towhee and her four eggs. We also had to not eat on the back porch for the same reason. So, I spread a blanket on the dining room floor, and we all picnicked there. Our friends brought their wiener dogs, at my request (certainly not at the request of our three cats, who were less than pleased and very puffy all night), and I am pleased to report that the dogs were told to lie down when we ate, and they DID. The just LAY there (lied there?), looking hungry. Wishing another cat would walk by.

When we started this year, I really was not what you'd call a cook. I remember moving out of an apartment once, and they tried to charge me for cleaning the oven and I had a fit. "I never once even opened that oven!" I told the landlord proudly.

But now, five months later, cooking is relatively easy. I have less of that everyone-will-be-here-in-20-minutes-and-I-am-naked-with-wet-hair-trying-to-cook-everything panic.

I knew I was getting old some years back when it dawned on me that I was way more concerned with how my house looked than how I looked before I had a party. Back when I was 25, I spent three and a half hours in the bathroom, grooming myself, and six minutes opening a box of wine and putting chips in a bowl. Now I spend three hours on food, flowers, dishes, cleanliness of the house and general ambiance, and 14 seconds slapping on mascara and putting my hair in pigtails.

And for those of you getting fat and hosting a party? Get a cute apron! I have my grandmother's sort of 1960s-looking apron, and I wear it over some boring ensemble, and it sparks the outfit right up! Plus, it hides a myriad of abdominal flaws!

I do have to report that I made deviled eggs, right there in the kitchen, which is maybe seven feet from where the birds' nest is. I felt terribly guilty during the whole boiling, mashing, mixing with mayo procedure. I did insist that we did not grill chicken, even though the grill had been moved. I know I am being weird about the bird nest.

At any rate, Marvin Gardens is off at band practice, and I may, sadly, do a little work. I have been doing some freelancing to make up for the fact that I made Marvin quit his job. He had an interview last week, by the way, and two more in the weeks to come. He needs to find something quickly, because when these eggs hatch, I am totally going on unpaid maternity leave, over here.

6 comments:

Your blog is brilliant! I had to sit down and read the archives to catch up, but it was well worth it.

I, too, am trying to save a few bucks, but I'm not going about it in the same way you are. I'm just socking away as much as I can each month and trying to be somewhat mindful of my spending. I read about the couple who did this in Yoga Journal as well and I found it inspiring...not inspiring enough to give up my hair products, though. So, I really give you a lot of credit for your endeavors!

at any rate, i hadn't thought about the whole gum thing. thankfully, i have 2 spare packs. because not only am i a lipstick and chapstick hoarder, i am also a gum hoarder.

keep on keepin on. :)

oh, and i have a total photo log of when the birds outside my building hatched, grew up, and left the nest. i watched the egg sitting every day, almost got my eyes pecked out when i got too close to take a picture... and i cried the day i came home to an empty nest.

Angelina Towhee sometimes gives me an "I'm peckin' your dang eye out, sister, you get any closer to this nest of mine" look, so thank you, amyd, for telling me it could really happen. How horrifying for her, to see my large, looming face with that Panama Canal wrinkle on my forehead, inches from her unborn children. You really can't blame her. And I am SO planning on crying when they leave, as well.